Children of the Dark Side
by Weekend Soul
Summary: ******THIS FIC, WHICH BELONGS TO SYKIK, HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED. SEE AUTHOR'S NOTE******
1. Revelations

Twenty-two year old Hermione Granger hoisted her black bag over her shoulder as she prepared to leave for work. She smiled as she looked out the window of her stylish London flat. Four stories below, her five-year old son Oscar was boarding the muggle school bus with the other children of the aparement block. Hermione turned away from the window to smile at the picture of Oscar she kept in her room instead. He smiled back with his tradmark mischevious grin, his light-brown eyes twinkiling as much as they were able to in a muggle photograph.  
  
Hermione's thoughts stayed on her son as she scurried around the room, tossing various items in her bag. She had been ridiculed by her wizard friends when she announced that she would be enrolling Oscar in a muggle school until he was old enough to attend Hogwarts, but she was a firm believer that a first-hand knowledge of muggle ways was invaluable asset to any wizard, whether in a professional career or in everyday life. It was better to get him accquainted with the other half of the world while he was still young and free from all the misconceptions magical folk carried about muggles.  
  
A quick glance at the clock on the wall reminded Hermione that she was on a schedule, and she quickly grabbed her lipstick off her nightstand and disapperated, appearing nearly instantaneously in her office at Gringotts. "Good morning, Ms. Granger," her blonde secretary Jessica called from outside her door. Hermione merely waved back in response, her head already buried in the towers of paper littering her desk. Hermione had joined Gringotts bank two years ago, and with her head for numbers she had quickly ascended to the head of the Treasure-Hunting Department. All the treasures collected by employees like Bill Weasley were submitted to her to be allocated into their appropiate places. Sometimes all the paperwork got extremely boring and she longed for the excitement of an aurora's career, like Ron and Harry, but this was a well-paying job and with a son to support, she couldn't go running around sticking her head in every dangerous situation that came along without a thought for anyone else.  
  
She labored over the piles of paper, finally managing to assemble them into a slightly more organized system a little before noon. She was about to take her lunch break when someone knocked on her door. She looked up and smiled, recognizing the familiar lanky figure that filled the threshold. "Ron, I thought we agreed to meet at the resturant," she said as she shoved the remaining papers into a drawer.  
  
"Yeah, well I finished a bit early today so I thought I'd come over and escort you," he answered, standing up straight and stuffing his hands into his pockets. His clear blue eyes raked over her and suddenly she became very aware of her appearance – wrinkled robes, ink on her hands and not a bit of makeup.  
  
"Translation: I dumped all the work on Harry and snuck out early when the rumbling of the bottomless canyon that is my stomach became too loud for me to ignore," Hermione said as she pulled her black robes off her shoulders, revealing the simple skirt and blouse she wore underneath. "Accio Lipstick!" she said, holding out her left hand as she simeltaneously tossed her robes onto the top of one of her many magically-compacted (thank god) file cabinets.  
  
Ron laughed as she quickly put on her lipstick and headed for the door. "You know me too well," he said as they strolled out onto Diagon Ally. "You're wrong about me sneaking out, though; Harry sent me off because my stomach was too loud for me OR him to ignore." A faint smile touched Hermione's lips as she thought of Harry. "How's he doing, anyway?" Hermione asked. Between her job and son and Harry's workaholic schedule, they rarely had time to see each other anymore.  
  
"He's doing ok," Ron answered absentmidly. "Busy as usual, you know. We literally have thousands and thousands of wizards to check out now that Voldermort is gone. Just the same-old same-old; who's really evil and who was bewitched, who were in Voldermort's inner circle, blah blah blah. They're definatly out there, but I don't think they'll try to make a comback right now. They're too disorientated at the moment. The way Harry's working, though, you would think that they had somehow raised Voldermort back from the dead."  
  
Hermione nodded in understanding. Ever since Voldermort's return to power at the end of their fourth year at Hogworts, Harry had been at the center of the group trying to combat him. After a long and ardorous battle, the Dark Lord had finally been killed; however, he left many of his followers behind, and it was only a matter of time before one of them stepped up to take his place…  
  
Hermione was jerked out of her thoughts as Ron pulled her towards the restraunt. "Good thing we have reservations," he remarked as they passed a long queue of wizards. "Tsk tsk," he added. "They should have known that they wouldn't be able to get in her during lunch time without a reservation." The resturant Ron had chosen, The Other Side, was new to Diagon Ally. It was, however, enjoying immense popularity with wizards because instead of 'traditional' restraunts where the food would magically appear in front of you, The Other Side was run exactly as a muggle restuarnt would. For pure-blood wizards, it was like a trip to the zoo where they fed you.  
  
Hermione didn't see the fun in it.  
  
Ron and Hermione reached their tables and ordered their food. "So, how has my favorite godson been faring?" Ron asked, idly twirling his knife on the red-and-white checked tablecloth.  
  
"Okay," answered Hermione trying to subtly untangle her hair with her fingers. Magic or muggle, there was no hair product that could make her hair behave the way she wanted. "He loves testing out his powers, waving his arms and muttering nonsense. Sometimes something happens, sometimes nothing does. I have to keep telling him that he can do whatever he wants at home, but at school he has to pretend that he's normal. I know it's a hard concept for a five-year-old to grasp, but he seems to be doing okay. At least, all the trouble he's gotten in at school hasn't been magic- related."  
  
Ron grinned. "He's been throwing finger-paints and refusing to sleep at nap time, huh?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "Pretty much. He can be such a handful at times! I really admire your mother, rasing all seven of you…"  
  
"She did have our father to help her out, you know," said Ron smiling. Suddenly, he grew serious. "That's what Oscar needs. A father. A male figure he can relate to, and not just his godfather." Hermione sighed. Not this conversation again, she thought. "Please, Ron, don't bring this up again," she pleaded.  
  
"Why not?" he insisted. He pushed the knife aside and leaned across the table, taking her hands in his. "Its been five years, Hermione, I think I deserve to know. You asked me to be patient, and I have been. My family and I supported you when your parents kicked you out after graduation. I've helped you out in every way I could. Just tell me who the father is." Hermione shook her head robotically. "I can't, I can't…"  
  
"You can, Hermione. At least tell me so I can track him down and kick his ass for leaving you."  
  
"No!" Hermione said forcefully, pulling her hands from his and sitting up. Some people around the restraunt looked up. "It wasn't like that at all! You think I loved Oscar's father? I didn't! I'm glad he's gone! He's better out of our lives."  
  
Ron glanced around the room and threw death glares at the people watching them. Good thing there was no such thing as a Death Glare Curse – Ron would have perfected it by now and half the wizarding population would be worse off for it. "What happened, then, Hermione?" he whispered as the othe customers turned back to their food. "You never even told me the circumstances in which – you know – happened." He suddenly paled a little and his eyes grew wider. "Oh my god – you weren't raped, were you? Who was it? Was it one of the teachers at school? Holy – it was Snape, wasn't it?" He jumped up from his chair, loorink murderous.  
  
"Ron, you idiot, sit down," Hermione hissed, trying to grab him and pull him back into his seat. The entire resturant, staff included, were staring at them now. "What have you been doing, watching muggle soaps or something? Of course I would have said something by now if something like that had happened!"  
  
"Well, if it wasn't that, then what is it?" Ron retorted angrily, finally sitting down in his seat. At that exact moment, a slightly scared-looking waitress came and handed them their food, saying nothing and leaving quickly. Hermione gave a quiet sigh of relief. "Just eat your food, okay Ron?" she said. She picked up her fork and started to eat and, after staring at her angrily for a few moments, started to eat as well.  
  
********  
  
"See you tommorow, Jessica," Hermione called to her secretary as she closed her office door. She glanced at her clock on the wall. Three-thirty. Oscar would be home from his friend's house at four. She shouldn't be leaving early as there was still tons of work to be done, but that afternoon's conversation with Ron had left her in no frame of mind to work. She might as well go home and try to sort out her thoughts before Oscar arrived. She childishly made a face at the papers on her desk that had just arrived that afternoon – therefore missing the morning's sorting – before disapperating.  
  
At home, she carelessly dropped her bag onto the floor and flopped onto her small, yet comfortable bed. Around her room, muggle photos of meaningless people smiled blankly at her from their places on the peach walls. These non-existant people were her family, as far as the nosey people who lived on her floor knew. Hermione let out a sigh and rummed at her closed eyes. The only true family she had were Oscar, Harry, and the Weasleys.  
  
"Crookshanks!" she called, not moving from her place on the bed. "Where are you, sweetie?" After a long and tiring day, there was nothing Hermione liked better than to have Crookshanks curl up beside her, an ever-present comfort.  
  
She heard a purr from the doorway. "Here he is," a voice said. Her eyes flew open and she sat up. It was Ron, holding a contended Crookshanks in his arms. "I hope you don't mind, I've been here fo awhile," he said, setting the cat on the floor, where he ran to her. "I was thinking about what I said today, and it really wasn't fair of me to pressure you to tell me like that, like you owed me for everything I've done for you or something. I know you'll tell me when – if – you're ready."  
  
He turned away from her gaze and looked at the floor, embaressed. Hermione smiled. She got up from the bed and walked towards him. "Thanks, Ron," she said softly. She put out her arms and he gave her a hug. "I just need some time, that's all. I want to tell you, I really do, especially after all that you and your family have done for me, but it – it's just…complicated," she finished lamely. She felt Ron's chin resting on her head, his hands absently stroking her back. I could stay like this forever, she thought, as she closed her eyes and sighed, listening to his heart beat under her ear. Ron stopped rubbing her back and lifted one hand to tilt her chin up so that she was facing him.  
  
"I know," he whispered. "I'm just looking out for you." He brought his mouth down to hers and she felt his warm lips on her own. She smiled slightly, allowing his tounge access to her mouth. Slowly, his tounge entwined with hers as his kiss deepened. She moved her hands to the back of his neck pressed his face to hers. He moaned and suddenly turned her around, so he had her pressed against the wall. He removed his lips from her mouth and she was about to protest until she felt them against her neck. "I love you, Hermione," he murmered against her skin. "You know I do." He began to suck gently on her neck and she caught her breath. He began to suck harder, and she groaned, nearly collasping in his arms.  
  
"You like that, huh?" he asked teasingly, lifting his head up to meet her gaze. She managed to collect her thoughts enough to smile back at him. She watched as his expression slowly turned serious. "Why won't you agree to marry me, Hermione?" he asked softly, letting his fingers run through her hair. "You know I'd take care of you, and as Oscar's godfather I'm practically his father anyway. I know you care about me too," he said. Hermione smiled sadly as tears came to her eyes. She looked at the ground, furiously trying to blink them away before he saw. Too late. Ron saw everything about her. She looked up at him as the last tear fell from her eye. "Oscar will be home quickly," she said quietly, "and you'd better get back to work. Harry will be thinking you've been kidnapped."  
  
Ron let his arms drop to his side and nodded. She sensed he was disappointed at her lack of an answer, but he didn't seem surprised. "You're right," he said. "Say hi to Oscar for me, okay? I'll be in touch." With that he disapperated.  
  
More tears came to Hermione's eyes as she was left staring at the empty space which had only seconds ago been occupied by Ron. "It's because I don't deserve you, Ron," she whispered into nothing, giving up the answer he'd been waiting to hear to the unfeeling walls of her room. 


	2. Whispers of the Past

A/N – Thank you to everyone who left me reviews! I actually wasn't planning on continuing this story. I just typed it up on my day off from college because I was bored. I will continue it, for now anyway, since you asked me to. Please ignore all spelling mistakes in this story!! I'm usually a pretty good speller but since the spell check on my computer isn't working I can't double check anything.  
  
Disclaimer: (I forgot to do this for the first chapter) These characters do not belong to me. Anyone who has not spent the last ten years in a cave, on mars, with their eyes closed and hands over their ears will know this. If you want to sue me, I just used my entire life's savings to pay for college so too bad for you.  
  
  
  
Hermione stood still for a moment, just staring at the spot from which Ron had just disappeared. She sighed and leant against the wall that Ron had just had her up against. Her eyes traveled around her room. Heavy wood door next to her, her bed off to the left, her wardrobe across from that… it looked the same as it always did, but the moment Ron left it just didn't feel right.  
  
She let out a cry of frustration and walked over to her bed. She flopped down on it, just barely missing Crookshanks, who was still curled up by her pillow. Her yellow down blanket and pillows poofed around her. The conflicting emotions she was feeling were driving her crazy!! On one hand, Oscar was the best thing that had ever happened to her, despite all the trauma of getting pregnant just before the end of her last year at school and having her conservative parents kick her out of the house. Lately, however – in truth, ever since she had begun to look at Ron as something slightly more than a friend about a year ago – a small part of her was starting to wish that the indescretions that had left to his birth had never happened.  
  
She felt her thoughts wander back to a familiar corner of her mind, one she had visited many times in the past five years. Back to the corner which held the memories of what happened the night she found out she was pregnant…  
  
(flashback)  
  
Hermione sat on the the plush red couch, staring blankly into the fire in front of her. It was after midnight, and the Griffyndor common room was completely empty and quiet for once. Most of the seventh-years had headed to bed early as the N.E.W.T exams were now less than a week away. Hermione emitted a low sigh and stared at the orange and yellow flames dance in front of her without really seeing them. She didn't even hear the creak of the door to the common room opening.  
  
A little while later, she became aware that someone else – TWO someone elses – had entered room. Their soft laughter was the first sound she had heard that evening since the last student had departed hours ago. "Shut up, shut up!" one of the voices hissed. "Someone will hear you!" This only made the other person laugh harder, and eventually the first person joined in. Irritation coursed through Hermione. For the first time that night she felt her thoughts turn from the subject that was keeping her up all night. As Head Girl, she should have turned around and put those two troublemakers in their place. What did it matter now, though, she thought. Just sit and be quiet and hopefully they'll leave soon.  
  
Their laughter stopped after a couple minutes. "They'll know who did it," a voice at normal-volume said. A familiar voice. "We'll lose points."  
  
"We don't need those points anyway!" said the second, also familiar voice cheerfully. "After winning all those Quidditch matches, they could take a hundred points off and the other houses will still never catch us. Besides, this is just what we need to boost the moral of every Griffyndor seventh- year before the exams. Not to mention Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, too."  
  
"For the good of the school, huh Ron?"  
  
"Is there any other reason?"  
  
They went back to their giggling again. "If only we could see their faces when they wake up!" Ron gasped.  
  
"We'll see them at breakfast. That'll be good enough. They'll be livid!" said Harry. The thought of this just made them laugh harder.  
  
Why can't you just carry on with this conversation in your rooms?! Hermione wanted to scream. As much as she loved Harry and Ron, she really wanted to be alone now. She had hinted as much to them earlier that evening when they invited her to play a game of chess with them. She had snapped at them and walked off. Then, however, her mood had been caused by fear of what could be. Now it was fear of what was. Her thoughts wandered back to her immediate problem. She was pregnant!! God, her parents would kill her.  
  
She didn't know how long she sat there thinking those kind of thoughts, but suddenly she felt a hand shaking her shoulder. "Hermione? Hermione! What are you doing here? Have you been petrified or something?" She looked up for the first time that evening. It took her eyes a moment to focus on Ron, who was looking strange colors to her after staing into the fire for so long. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. "I never thought I'd see you up this late, especially the week that the N.E.W.Ts are on. Up studying, maybe, but not just sitting here wasting your energy."  
  
Hermione tried to laugh. "I'm just getting myself psyched, that's all." She was quiet a moment, furiously praying that he bought her excuse. "Where's Harry?"  
  
"We went up to our rooms like half an hour ago," Ron said. "I realized that I left my wand on the tale over there, so I came back to get it and here you were on the couch. You haven't been here all night, have you?"  
  
"I heard you and Harry come in," Hermione answered evasivly. "What did you guys do to the Slytherins anyway?"  
  
Ron grinned. "We figured they could use a little psyching up for the N.E.W.Ts, too. Tomorrow when they wake up, they'll find their entire common room covered with – well, newts."  
  
"How did you get into their common room?"  
  
Ron shook his head playfully. "Secrets of the trade, dear Hermione." He plonked himself down next to her on the couch. She was glad he didn't leave, despite her thoughts half an hour ago. She was at a stage where she could use some company, and why not one of her best friends? "So, what was up with you earlier anyway?" he asked, reaching into his robes and pulling out several chocolate frogs. He offered her one, but she shook her head.  
  
"Just nervous, I guess," she said quietly in response to his question. There was silence between them for a moment while Ron munched on his chocolate. Hermione felt tears starting to come to her eyes. Oh no, not now, not now, she thought. She had managed to keep from crying the entire time since she had confirmed her suspicions. Please, please, don't let me lose control while Ron's here!  
  
Her tears had a mind of their own, howeve, and they began to slide silently down her face. She quickly made a move to wipe them off, but Ron saw her. "Don't cry, Hermione," he said softly, and put an arm around her shoulder. "Yhou're the smartest person in the whole school. You probably got more O.W.Ls than Dumbledore got when he was at school. Trust me, you'll ace the N.E.W.Ts."  
  
"Its not that," said Hermione through her sobs. She had given up trying to cry quietly and was letting all the fear, anger and confusion she had been battling the entire night come out. "I'm in trouble, Ron. Big trouble. Non- fixable trouble." She put her head against his chest and continued crying. The fire in the fireplace died out, leaving them in darkness.  
  
Obviously in shock, Ron absently stroked her shoulder as she continued crying. "You know you can tell me whatever it is," he said finally, still staring straing ahead. "I'll help you though it. Me and Harry will."  
  
Hermione pulled her head up from his chest and disentangled herself from him. She wiped at her eyes, trying to catch her breath. "I'm pregnant," she finally whispered.  
  
Her words had a shocking effect on Ron. He lept back from her, his mouth hanging open. "Are you serious?!" he practically screamed.  
  
"Shh, shh," Hermione said frantically. It would be just her luck if the entire house woke up with Ron's yells and came to investigate. She moved over closer to him and grabbed both his hands with hers. "I'm serious," she said sincerely, staring him straight in the eye. Ron didn't meet her gaze.  
  
He opened and closed his mouth several times before managing to pull himself together enough to form sentances. "I mean, are you sure."  
  
"A hundred percent."  
  
"Oh, man," said Ron. He pulled his hands from hers and flopped back onto the couch, running his hands through his hair. Hermione waited anxiously for him to say something. If her best friend took the news this way, what in god's name would her parents do?  
  
They sat in the silence and darkness for a long time, Hermione feeling worse and worse with every passing moment. Suddenly Ron's voice came out of the darkness, hitting her like something solid. "Do you know if its a boy or a girl?" he asked with a thoughtful note in his voice. She had to laugh.  
  
"I'm only just over a month pregnant, Ron," she said.  
  
"Oh," was his reply. "What about the father?" he flinched slightly after saying this, as if he were afraid that her answer could inflict physcial harm on him.  
  
She shook her head violently. "He's not going to be a part of this. I don't want him him my life. I doubt he even knows I'm pregnant."  
  
"Are you going to tell him?"  
  
"No. But I expect he'll find out soon enough." She looked at him, and the unspoken question written on his face. "I can't tell you who it is," she said softly.  
  
He nodded, disappointed but respecting her reasons for secrecy. Finally, he turned to her. "You know I'm always here to help you with whatever you need, right?"  
  
She smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "I know you are, Ron," she whispered in his ear. "Just like you always have been."  
  
  
  
Hermione opened her eyes and stared at the roof. Ron had been so good to her. How could he stand by her after everything she had done to him? Invaded his home, demanded his and his family's attentions every day for three long years – but worst of all, in her mind, was the fact that she had gone and slept with someone else in their seventh year when his feelings about her were obvious. And then he had enough decency to love her son as his own.  
  
And now that she finally felt the same way about him, she wasn't worth of him.  
  
Hermione was jerked from her thoughts by a pounding on her front door. It took her a moment to remember who she was, what she was doing – she was no longer seventeen, and her child was no longer a thing she feared or dreaded. She smiled as she looked at the clock and saw that it was already four. Oscar was home.  
  
She launched herself out of bed and went to the door, sliding the chain off and twisting the lock. "Hi sweetie," she said as she opened the door. Oscar's bright eyes stared back at her.  
  
"Mummy!" he cried, and launched himself at her legs. She laughed and knelt to return his hug.  
  
"Come on inside, you silly goose," she said as she straightened. "You're letting all the heat out. I have some biscuts for you, and you can tell me about school." She ushered him inside and closed the door.  
  
The moment the door closed, a rat that had been sitting, unobserved by anyone, across the hall scurried off. It quietly slipped into a lift that was making its way to the ground floor. Odd…anyone who saw would have thought that the rat had been watching Hermione's flat. 


	3. A New Lord

Chapter 3 – A New Lord  
  
Disclaimer: This is not an actual fan fiction. I am the real J. K. Rowling. I own everything. I was also Russel Crowe in a past life and have telekinetic powers. Bow down to me, minions!!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry turned his head as he heard a faint pop from behind him, lifting his head from his work for the first time in hours. "Ron," he said angrily to his partner. "Where the hell have you been all day?" He raked a hand through his hair in frustration and turned in his chair, focusing his green eyes on the man before him. "You can't just take off whenever you like, you know. Swear to god, this whole department is pissing me off. They think just because Voldemort's dead the threat is gone. I thought you would know better than that."  
  
"Hey, easy, easy!" said Ron, holding up his hands in defense. He settled himself into his chair at the desk adjacent to Harry's. Files and paper from Harry's desk had spilled over onto his own, knocking down the picture of Hermione and Oscar that he kept on his desk. He picked it up and smiled back at the waving figures. "I was with Hermione."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, not impressed. "Yeah, you told me you were going to meet Hermione FIVE hours ago. No one can spend that long in a restaurant, not even you."  
  
Ron put the picture back on his desk and shoved the papers back onto Harry's desk. "We had a fight," he said.  
  
Harry groaned. "About Oscar's father again? Leave her alone, Ron. Whoever that bastard is she obviously doesn't need him in her life, so it shouldn't matter who he is. Oscar will be fine with just her and us." The conversation must have ended there in Harry's point of view, because he picked up a piece of parchment and slid across to Ron. "Look at this," he said, a faint triumphant look on his face which Ron recognized as meaning he had found something he believed proved his point about the next Voldemort being seconds away from rising. Ron internally shook his head as he reached for the paper. Harry already had the whole department trying to create a nickname for him, convinced he was turning into the next Mad Eye Moody.  
  
Ron stared at the parchment blankly. "This is a census form," he said blankly, showing it to Harry. "What does this have to do with anything?" Harry leaned back in his chair, folded his hands, and smiled smugly. "Read it," was all he said. "This is a census report for a town in Finland," Ron reiterated. "You're really stretching now, Harry."  
  
"Just read it and stop being a jerk. You owe me after taking off for half the day."  
  
"Smart ass," Ron muttered under his breath and turned to the paper. "So the population's doubled over the last six months. So what?"  
  
"So," said Harry, a muggle newspaper magically appearing in his hand, "that's an entirely muggle town – or at least it used to be. There aren't even any magical places there, like Diagon Alley or Platform 9 and ¾ and the like. The Finnish Ministry of Magic has no recorded magical activity there for the last thousand years. Now, look at the newspaper reports that have been coming out of there since the population surge." He tossed the paper onto the table.  
  
"I can't read Finnish," Ron said without even looking at it.  
  
"It's in English. Stop being a prat and just read, for godssakes."  
  
Ron sighed and picked up the paper. They should be tracking down known death eaters, not running around like chickens with their heads cut off, gawking at every muggle newspaper and census report that came their way… "There's nothing out of the ordinary here," Ron said after a minute. "Just some crap about the migration patterns of reindeer, a story on the local school and a blurb about local businesses closing."  
  
"Exactly!" shouted Harry. He pounded his fist on the desk, making Ron jump. "Local businesses are closing. But there's been a huge jump in population over the past six months. The Ministry of Magic there recorded it. So why aren't more businesses opening, instead of closing? Why aren't more houses being built? It's because the new half of the population has their own way of providing things," he said, throwing Ron a meaningful glance. "They don't need to rely on muggle stores. Think about it, Ron; if you were a wizard, would you suddenly throw down everything and move to an entirely muggle-populated town, and at the EXACT same time as five hundred other wizards? Of course not – unless you all were hiding from something, or someone."  
  
Ron glanced down at the paper with a new sense of respect. "You know, you're right," he admitted finally. There was something suspicious about it all. "Are you sure that the people have migrated to the town are all wizards, though?" he asked. Harry smirked.  
  
"Remember last week when I said I was going to take two days off to relax?" Ron nodded. He had almost fainted at the news. "Well, I didn't really relax. I went up to Finland to check out the town. I talked to a couple muggles, and when I asked them if anything interesting had happened lately, all I got was the same news you see in the paper there. Surely one of them would have mentioned that there seemed to be hoards of people moving into their town, right? But not one of them did. Therefore, the five hundred or so people who have moved in must be in hiding. The Census Charm picks up wizards and muggles alike, whether they're out in the open or hiding and invisible. Therefore, WE know that there are wizards are hiding out there. To the muggles, their town must look the same as it always did. This muggle census of the town done around the same time proves it. The numbers are more or less the same as they've always been."  
  
"So what do you suggest we do?" Ron asked. Harry grew quiet.  
  
"I think we should get a team together to send over there, just to keep an eye on things." Harry said. "There's a 99.99% chance that these five hundred wizards are death eaters, but you never know. If they come back with evidence that there is something going on there, I say top priority is that they get they get their names so we can finally pin down the identities of the sons-of-bitches organizing this whole return-to- Voldermort fiasco."  
  
Ron nodded in agreement. "Let's get the team organized, then," he said, reaching for the list of staff names.  
  
  
  
The streets of London are busy at four o'clock in the afternoon, full of children returning home from school and adults trying to duck out of work early. The rat seemed to know this. It managed to exit the apartment complex without being stepped on – or seen – by anyone, then started to make its way down the street, staying closely to the walls.  
  
It was on this day that something managed to stop the people on the street. For a moment, children forgot that they were supposed to be rushing home to their afternoon cartoons, and adults forgot that they were pretending to have a family emergency or be violently ill.  
  
As they scurried down the sidewalk in either direction, looking at the ground, they suddenly heard a loud screech from above. They lifted their heads, although they did not slow their pace.  
  
Suddenly, a huge brown bird – could it have really been an owl? – came flying out of nowhere and slammed into the base of a building. The people on the sidewalk stopped rushing and stared. Then just as quickly, it flew off. It flew so high it was impossible for the people on the ground to tell whether or not it was grasping something in its talons…  
  
As the owl left the city further and further behind, the beat of its wings began to change from a frantic flapping to a smooth, steady beat. The rat in its claws twitched slightly, uncomfortable. Obviously whoever had sent the owl had neglected to tell it to be gentle. Not surprising.  
  
Finally, after hours of flying, the owl came to rest in a public park. It dropped the rat on the ground and took off once again. The rat shook itself and looked around. No one had noticed him or the owl. It ran for the rubbish bin. As promised, by the side and half-buried in the surrounding sand was a broken plastic spoon. The rat placed his paw upon it and felt himself being jerked through the portkey, simultaneously wondering why they just couldn't have placed it in the apartment block in the first place, saving him the painful trip by owl.  
  
The first thing the rat did when it was released from the portkey was to revert to its human form. The rat was no longer a rat, but a man wearing tattered robes. He shivered. Out of all the places on earth, why did they have to choose this god-forsaken place? He mentally cursed his supervisors. He was getting too old for this.  
  
"What news do you have for us, Wormtail?" a harsh voice interrupted his thoughts. Wormtail looked up. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He no longer had his rat's sense of vision. He was in a dark cave, magically forged beneath the earth's surface, and lit by several floating candles. The rocky floor was icy under his bare feet. In front of him sat four seated figures, their features shrouded by darkness. All around him milled hundreds of other wizards, dressed in identical black robes, all waiting with held breaths to hear what he had to say.  
  
"Well?" the seated figure asked again. Wormtail bowed his head.  
  
"It was as you said," he answered respectfully. He nearly added 'master,' but thought better of it at the last minute. Just because the little prat made a few good decisions, it did NOT make him his master. "They were both there, the woman and the child."  
  
It was impossible to tell since the figure was shrouded in darkness, but Wormtail got the impression that he was smiling. It leant back into its chair. "So it begins," he said. "The wheels are in motion."  
  
The wizards murmured respectfully. Wormtail lowered his head with feigned reverence and snorted.  
  
  
  
A/N – Just a quick note to say that I hope all of you out in cyber-world have a good holiday, no matter what you celebrate of even if you're celebrating anything, and thanks for all of you kind reviews. And also, that disclaimer at the top was sarcastic and poking fun at the thought that anyone could possibly think I was the great J. K. Rowling.  
  
Also, to Emili Potter – thank you for all your reviews!! And don't worry, the father isn't pettigrew – that's just gross. 


	4. An Old 'Friend'

Chapter 4 – An Old "Friend"  
  
Disclaimer: They are not mine, not mine, la la la la la….  
  
  
  
The next day, Hermione dragged herself out of bed at the usual time – six in the morning. As she stepped out into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, she was greeted by the faint smell of pizza, which she and Oscar had made for the previous night's dinner. She flicked the light switch and started to prepare breakfast.  
  
As usual, Oscar came into the kitchen to investigate the source of the smells that had lured him out of bed a few minutes after seven. He rubbed his eyes as he stood in the doorway, looking adorable in his slightly too big flannel pajamas. "Pancakes?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"Well, good morning to you too, Oscar. Are your manners still asleep?"  
  
"Good morning, mummy. I love you! But I would love you more if you were making pancakes," he quietly added, trying to peek around her to the stovetop.  
  
Hermione laughed. "Fine, you win, its pancakes," she said.  
  
After eating they finished their morning chores quickly, and at eight Hermione took Oscar downstairs to wait for the school bus. On the sidewalk, Oscar ran to greet the familiar group of children, who immediately busied themselves with some muggle trading cards. Off at the side, the other mothers of the building laughed and chatted quietly among themselves, bundled in their expensive fur coats. They smiled and nodded at Hermione, who smiled back, but made no attempt to join their conversation. She learnt long ago that as a young unmarried mother, she would not be accepted into all social situations, muggle or otherwise.  
  
The school bus arrived shortly, and Hermione waved to Oscar as he boarded the bus. She quickly turned and headed back up to the apartment. She had left her warmest coat, her dragon hide jacket, upstairs so as not to attract attention, and the thin wool jumper didn't keep her nearly as warm. It was her day off, so she didn't have to go into the office, but she planned to do some work anyway to make up for the disorganized state in which she left the office yesterday.  
  
The bank must have other plans, however, for when she got back to her apartment a large black owl wearing a yellow scarf with the bank's insignia was seated on her windowsill. With a small sigh of disappointment, she lifted the window and took the parchment from the owl. She untied the message and read:  
  
Ms. Granger –  
  
I'm sorry to bother you on your day off but this morning the ministry sent word of urgent business. They want to borrow some of the bank's treasure hunters for some expedition. I've set up a meeting for you at their request with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley at nine thirty today in their office at the ministry. – Jessica  
  
Hermione tossed the parchment down with a huff of annoyance, her light brown eyes flashing with anger at the thought of delaying her own work even more than it already had been for some stupid ministry business. The ministry employed hundreds of talented wizards; why did they need to borrow the bank's treasure hunters? If they had wanted to work for the ministry, they would have in the first place, wouldn't they? She looked at the owl, which was waiting patiently for an answer. She called for her quill and hurriedly scribbled on the back of the parchment:  
  
Fine, but tell the ministry I am NOT happy about them filching our employees. Call Harry and Ron to confirm the appointment.  
  
She fastened the parchment back onto the owl and stepped back as it disappeared from her window with powerful flaps of its wings. She sighed as she watched it turn to a tiny dot in the sky. There went her quiet day of work.  
  
She grabbed some forest green robes and slipped them over her black jeans and cashmere camel sweater before apparating to her office. Frantically, she searched through her files and somehow managed to find every necessary paper before the nine-thirty deadline.  
  
"Bye, Jessica," Hermione called to her secretary through an armload of papers as she closed her office door behind her. Not trusting her flustered state of mind, she decided to travel through the floo network in case she somehow appeared in the middle of Siberia or something.  
  
She smiled and nodded to the calls of "Good morning, Ms. Ganger," as she wove her way through the maze of desks on the way to the office fireplace. Almost there, almost there…if only the papers would just stay still for one more minute…  
  
"Ms. Granger!"  
  
Hermione gasped and stared in dismay as all her carefully organized papers tumbled to the floor. Dammit! Oh no, Hermione, you couldn't have done it the easy way, she thought angrily to herself. You couldn't take the two seconds to reach for a folder to put the papers in. THAT would have been too hard. You just HAD to rush to see Ron, whom you only saw yesterday! She turned to see who was the source of the noise.  
  
"Simon," she said in frustration as she recognized the dirty blond hair and the hazel eyes standing a couple inches above her own. "Why couldn't you just tap me on the shoulder nicely?"  
  
"I'm sorry Ms. Granger," he said, eyes twinkling with excitement as always, "but I really wanted to catch you before you left the office. I mean, since its your day off and all, I wasn't sure if you would be coming back to the office later and there was something I really wanted to talk to you about. Its very important." He stopped and took a deep breath.  
  
Hermione internally sighed. With Simon, there was only one thing he ever wanted to talk about – when he would be put on the "big" project. Fresh out of Hogwarts, he believed he had the talent to topple Bill Weasley from his pedestal of highest-earning treasure hunter. Though he was miles ahead of all this year's new recruits, and even ahead of some of the older employees, Hermione still felt he needed some training before she sent him on the big expeditions with hunters like Bill.  
  
"Simon, can't this wait until after my day off?" she implored as she bent to pick up her papers. "I mean, it's my day off and everything and I had TONS of work to do, then the stupid ministry called, trying to bog me down with all of their work as well… I just really don't have time now," she finished lamely as she gathered the last paper from the floor and straightened.  
  
"Oh, um…sure," said Simon. "I'm sorry, you're right, I shouldn't be bothering you on your day off. I'll talk to you Wednesday, okay?"  
  
Hermione smiled with relief. "Yes. Wednesday would be great. Thank you!" she turned and practically ran to the fireplace before someone else could accost her, her fingers clenching her papers with an iron grip.  
  
She reached the far wall of the office building without any more interruptions. Luckily, since it was still early in the morning, there were no lines in front of the five stone fireplaces used for going out. She ran to the nearest one, and within seconds had appeared at the auroras wing at the Ministry of Magic.  
  
She smiled as pictures of past great auroras greeted her, hanging on the walls of the familiar passage to Harry and Ron's office. She reached the cream door towards the end of the hall and pushed it open.  
  
Harry and Ron's heads snapped up at the sound of the door, looking to her as they were floating amidst a sea of parchment, books, maps, and hundreds of magical gidgets. "God," she said, taking in the full extent of the clutter. "What have you two been doing? Spring cleaning in winter?" Harry and Ron looked around.  
  
"It's not that bad, Hermione," Ron said. "We're just working on a big project right now."  
  
Hermoine walked towards the desk and pushed a pile of sneakoscopes off to the side, clearing a small place for her papers. She put them down and turned to Harry. "How have you been, Harry?" she asked. She walked towards him and gave him a hug. "I haven't seen you since we all had dinner at The Burrow two months ago!"  
  
He hugged her back. "I know, and I'm sorry that we haven't seen each other more, but you know – when there's work to be done…"  
  
"Yeah, I know," she said straightening. "When there's work to be done everyone else bolts off and leaves you stuck with it." She never commented on Harry's ideas that Voldemort's successor was poised to take control in the near future because, quite frankly, she didn't know what to think. On one hand, the death eaters certainly wouldn't just lie down and die quietly now that their leader was gone, but they had always seemed so dependent on Voldemort. Now that he was gone, after being their master for twenty years, she couldn't help but think they might be too disorganized to do anything so quickly. "So, what exactly does this mission of yours involve?"  
  
"Well, to make a long story short," Ron began, "Harry found this town in Finland where there is possible Death Eater activity. We want to send a team up there to check things out, but the problem is we don't have enough people with the skills necessary. So, we need to borrow some of your treasure hunters. The best. We need people who are resourceful, quiet, quick on their feet, and above all – people you can trust."  
  
"Right," said Harry, nodding in agreement. "The last thing we need is for one of them to go running off to the Death Eaters with news of our plans."  
  
Hermione thought a moment. "Okay," she said. "I'll give you who I can spare. On one condition – they have to agree to go. I'm not sending anyone in my department to fight a battle that's not their problem unless they want to."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Fair enough."  
  
After spending hours buried in scraps of parchments and being barraged by constant streams of owls, the three had finally pulled together an acceptable list of people to go on the mission to Finland. "Are you going back to your office, Hermione?" Harry asked as she stood and started shifting through piles for her papers.  
  
"No," she answered. "I'm going back home to see if I can get some work done before tomorrow." She thought of Simon back at the office, and how angry he would be when he heard about the mission and how he hadn't been picked to go. Maybe she should take tomorrow off, or better yet seal herself inside her office.  
  
"I'll help you take this stuff back," Ron offered, picking up half of her things. "Bye, Harry," he called as they headed to the fireplace.  
  
"Yeah, bye" he called back. "See you in five hours." His words only barely reached their ears as they were swept up through the fireplace.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Thanks for helping us, by the way," Ron said as they arrived in Hermione's living room. She dropped her stuff on the white sofa messy pile. He did the same.  
  
"That's okay," she said with a tired sigh, running her hands through her hair. "If it was anyone at the ministry besides you and Harry, I would have told you to go to hell. But I don't mind helping out friends."  
  
"Poor Hermione," Ron said, reaching out to massage her aching shoulders. "Harry and I didn't mean to make more work for you." He leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on the side of her neck.  
  
She smiled. "Harry'll be waiting for you," she murmured.  
  
"No he won't."  
  
She turned her head to kiss him. She loved the way his mouth felt on hers, so soft and warm…. she lost herself in his kiss and suddenly she found herself not in her living room, but in her bedroom, lying on her bed next to Ron, their robes on a pile on the floor. She pulled away from him and looked down at her muggle clothes and his. How did she get here like this? "How do you always do that to me?" she asked.  
  
Ron smiled. "I'm magical."  
  
Hermione laughed as Ron bent his head down for another kiss. She didn't object as she felt his hand creeping up her body underneath her sweater. Oscar wouldn't be home for hours. She moaned as she felt his hand reach her breast and arched her back, pushing herself into his hand. Lifting her arms, she started to tug at the black t-shirt he was wearing, trying to pull it over his head. He groaned into her mouth before quickly pulling away from her. Before she could protest, he had pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor with their robes. "It's been too long," he said as he started to pull at her sweater.  
  
"I know," she whispered breathlessly as she started to undo his belt buckle. Suddenly, from somewhere in the room, came a voice that was like a bucket of ice-cold water tossed over both of them.  
  
"I hate to interrupt you, Weasley," the familiar voice said, "as this is probably the closest you've come to getting laid in months. I have some fairly important matters to discuss with your girlfriend, however."  
  
Ron and Hermione sprang apart. In two seconds, Ron had his wand out and aimed at the intruder, keeping the defenseless Hermione behind him with one arm.  
  
"Malfoy," he spat as he recognized the black-clad blond wizard in front of them. "What the fuck do you want?"  
  
Malfoy raised his eyebrows slightly as a small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Oscar," he said simply.  
  
A/N – Yes, I have a thing for cliffhangers, I know! But I promise the next update will not take anything as long as this one. I already have everything planned out in my head so it's just a matter of finding the time to type it!  
  
I know this entry is going to make a lot of people think Malfoy is the father but – I haven't actually said that, have I? *evil cackle* I promise everything will be revealed in the next chapter, however!! And it's not too far away…..  
  
**Sykik 


	5. Messiah

A/N – Thanks for all your kind reviews guys, I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long with this chapter. Don't cry, Nicole!! (  
  
Chapter Five – Messiah  
  
Disclaimer: I am not the great and powerful Oz. It is sad, but true. And I don't own any of this. Also sad, but true. ::dispenses tissues with reckless abandon::  
  
  
  
Hermione's heart pounded in her chest when Malfoy mentioned her son's name. Please no, not now, this was what she had dreaded for five long years….. "You're not getting my son," she hissed at Malfoy, her voice filled with venom.  
  
Malfoy looked amused at this. "And why not?" he asked casually.  
  
"You have no claim to him! Letting you take him would be the same as kidnapping!"  
  
"I have no claim to him?" Malfoy drawled lazily. "Now are you sure about that, dear Ms. Granger?" he crossed his arms defiantly and tilted his head, his gaze never leaving her face.  
  
"What is he talking about, Hermione?" Ron asked. A note of panic had entered his voice but the arm holding his wand never faltered, despite the fact that Malfoy seemed to be unarmed. "He's not the father, is he?"  
  
Hermione stiffened, and what little color was left in her face drained away. Several minutes passed, and a heavy silence settled over the room. For the first time since Malfoy had entered the room that evening, Ron let his hardened gaze drift from Malfoy's smirking face to Hermione's trembling one, where it softened to a look of concern and fear. "Hermione?" he whispered, and gently placed his free hand on her knee.  
  
Malfoy laughed cruelly. "That's right, comfort your girlfriend, Weasley. She's going to need a lot of it soon." He reached down and grabbed Ron's black shirt from the floor and tossed it at him. "Put this back on. This pathetic secne is making me sick enough without having to look at your half naked body, too."  
  
Ron ignored him. "Hermione?" he said again, gently prodding for an answer. "Go ahead. Tell Malfoy he's wrong and spit in his face before I send his ass to Azkaban."  
  
"Only myself and a few lucky women have any say on where my ass goes, Weasley," said Malfoy, almost happily. He grabbed the green velvet- upholstered chair Hermione had in her room from behind her desk. "I see this could take awhile." Ron's eyes left Hermione's face and glued onto Malfoy the moment he had moved to get the chair. As he dragged it to the center of the room, the sleeve of his robes slid up on one side, revealing – surprise surprise, the tell-tale mark of a Death Eater. As Malfoy sat down, he noticed the direction of Ron's gaze and quickly slid his sleeve back down.  
  
"Don't bother, Malfoy," Ron said maliciously. "I would have been more surprised if I HADN'T seen that thing in your arm, and if you think that my seeing proof of your allegiance to the dark lord is new information for the ministry, you must be stupider than Lockhart. Anyway, I don't care who you work for, I'm not letting you get anywhere near Oscar, even if you are his father."  
  
Hearing this statement, Hermione wiped away the tears that had been silently sliding down her cheeks and lifted her head to meet Malfoy's stare. "You aren't his father," she said simply.  
  
Ron gave a sigh of relief. Malfoy only smiled. "You don't sound so sure of that, Ms. Granger," he said.  
  
"I would know if my own son had Malfoy blood in him, goddammit!" Hermione suddenly screamed, making both Ron and Malfoy jump. She looked a bit startled herself. "Nothing you say or do will EVER convince me that you are the father," she added quietly, her eyes shooting a ray of hatred at him.  
  
"Hermione," said Ron shakily, his breathing accelerating. "What are you talking about? Is Malfoy the father, or isn't he?"  
  
"Yes, Granger," put in Malfoy. "You've kept is a secret for five long years now. Time's up. Why don't you just stop with your little games and tell your beloved Weasley outright who the father is?" Hermione just stared at him, barely breathing. Unblinking, she continued to stare at him with surpressed rage.  
  
"Hermione," Ron begged. He finally let his wand drop beside him on the bed as he raised both his hands to give her shoulders a gently shake. She didn't move. "Please, I have to know. Who is Oscar's father?" (A/N – Damn straight, I'm gonna drag it out long as possible)  
  
"'Fess up, Granger," Malfoy. His expression and tone told them he was enjoying every second of this. "You have no clue who his father is, do you? You're as much in the dark about this as the rest of the world is." Hermione flinched at his words. Malfoy saw this, and smiled. "Just imagine what it must have been like for her, Weasley, in the months before Oscar was born. Not knowing whether she was the next virgin Mary or carrying the child of Satan himself. I'll tell you right now, Granger, the latter is more probable."  
  
During Draco's little speech, Ron had looked like he was about to explode. Now, he was absolutly livid. His face was about the same shade of red as his hair. Without a warning, he launched himself at Malfoy and toppled him off the chair, leaving his wand lying on the bed. He pounded Malfoy to the floor and punched him once, twice… Hermione lost count. She screamd for him to stop, not out or regard for Malfoy, or course, but out of fear for what he might have hidden up one his sleeves, literally and figurativly…  
  
After a minute, Malfoy was able to throw him off. Hermione ran up and grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him back. Ron didn't seem to be hurt. At any rate, he was still struggling against her grasp, trying to get his hands on Draco. Malfoy was holding a hand to his face. No doubt it would be very colorful by tomorrow, but somehow Ron hadn't managed to give him a bloody nose. "Let me go, Hermione," Ron ordered through gritted teeth. "I'm going to murder him with my bare hands."  
  
Even though he had just been pummeled, Malfoy hadn't lost a bit of his cocky attitude. He stared at Ron and Hermione with a mirthless smile. "Go ahead, Weasley. Kill me. All it'll leave you with will be one devastingly handsome corpse, a huge legal mess, and just as many, if not more, unanswered questions."  
  
"Ron," Hermione said, "Don't."  
  
After a moment, Ron let his fists drop to his side. "Fine," he snapped, "But you'd better start talking, Malfoy."  
  
"First I want some answers," Malfoy demanded smoothly. He turned his attention to Hermione. "If you know, Granger, tell us – who's the father?"  
  
Ron turned to her. "Hermione, you don't have to tell him anything," he said.  
  
"No, Ron, no," she said. She let out a sigh. "He's right," she admitted. "I don't know who Oscar's father is."  
  
Malfoy laughed. "Finally, after five years, the truth! What do you think of this, Weasley?"  
  
Once again, he was ignored. All of Ron's attention was focused directly on Hermione. "Are you meaning to tell me that you were sleeping with so many different guys towards the end of our seventh year that you couldn't even keep track of them?" he asked, horrified.  
  
"No! No, Ron, it wasn't anything like that! How could you possibly think that of me?"  
  
Ron looked uncomfortable. "I wouldn't normally, Hermione, but what other explanation is there? Immaculate conception?"  
  
"You could say that," Draco interrupted.  
  
"Shut the fuck up, Malfoy."  
  
"I remember I was in my room one night," Hermione said, ignoring the interruption. "I was lying in bed, crying. I don't even know what I was upset about – maybe the N.E.W.Ts, problems with my parents, or maybe I was just upset by the thought that soon school would be ending and I wouldn't be around my friends all the time. Whatever it was, I remember wishing that I had someone, someone who would always be there and love me and support me no matter what I did, not like my parents who were always trying to make me something I wasn't or – or like Ron and Harry, who always seemed to be closer to each other than they ever could be to me."  
  
Ron looked pained at this. "I'm sorry," Hermione whispered to him. "I know I was wrong, I had no idea what I was thinking - " Ron shook his head.  
  
"You don't have to apologize. Keep going."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I was there for ages, just thinking and wishing for this guardian angel. Suddenly, I felt – I felt a pair of arms wrap around me." Her eyes clouded over. She was lost in the memory. "Its funny, I didn't scream or jump off the bed – I didn't even turn to see who it was. I guess it just seemed to me, at that moment, that I had prayed for this guardian angel for so long I just expected him to turn up sooner or later, and here he was now. I was the one who started kissing him, I remember that clearly…and I guess you can figure our for yourself where it went from there." She stopped for a moment, then shook her head in remorse. "The full impact of what had actually happened didn't even hit me until the next afternoon, and by then there was no going back." She looked at Ron, and the hurt expression he wore was enough to cause her physcial pain. "That's all, really," she said apologetically.  
  
Without warning, Ron lunged at Malfoy for the second time that evening, grabbing him by the collar of his robes and smashing him against the wall. "Who was it, Malfoy?" he snarled. "Was it you? Swear to god, if it was I'll tear your heart out right here. See if you make a pretty corpse then."  
  
Draco looked bored. "We're never going to get anything accomplished if you insist on trying to kill me at ever little - " he cut off as Ron slammed him against the wall again.  
  
"We can move on after you answer me – WAS IT YOU?"  
  
Malfoy gave him an evil look. He didn't like to be ordered around, and dammned if he'd take orders from a Weasley. Maybe just this one time, however, or else he'd be dead by dinnertime. "Short answer – no. I am not Oscar's father. But in a way, I am."  
  
"Stop with your riddles and just tell me who the bastard is."  
  
Malfoy sighed and turned to Hermione, who was standing to the side, watching. "Granger, will you please tell your boyfriend to let me go so we can get down to serious business?"  
  
Hermione stared at him coldly. "My son's life is not 'businesss.'"  
  
"Just get off me, Weasley!"  
  
With a final shove, Ron finally let go of Malfoy. "Tell us everything. No questions, just answers."  
  
"Fine,"snapped Malfoy. "So I'm a Death Eater. No surprises there, right? And my father as well, by the way," he added, sneering at Ron. "Finally, we admit it. Just try and catch him, though. The ministry's been after him for over twenty years and they still haven't caught him."  
  
"Stop bragging about your pathetic lineage and get on with it, Malfoy," Hermione demanded.  
  
His eyes flickered over her, but he didn't say anything. "You'll remember that towards the end of our seventh year, the Dark Lord was nearing the height of his power. He was looking towards the seventh year Slytherins for new recruits. Of course, I was one of the first to sign up. My father had been grooming me since my birth for this. Though at the time our master was pretty much invincible, he wasn't stupid. He'd learnt an important lesson the first time round with Potter. He decided that should anything happen to him, he'd need – a backup plan, so to speak. This is where you come in, Granger," he said. "The ultimate good."  
  
"The ultimate good? What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.  
  
"You represent the ultimate good," he answered. "Best friend of Harry Potter, who did more to fight Voldermort than perhaps even Dumbeldore himself. Harry Potter, who could have been the next Dark Lord himself but chose the shining path of good. And through all his battles, there you were at his side. His driving force, so to speak. A worthless mudblood, but perhaps one of the most talented witches Hogwarts has ever seen. You see what I mean? Good. Everything pure and sugary sweet. That's why you were chosen to be the one."  
  
"The one to what?" said Hermione, knowing the answer and dreading it.  
  
"The one to be mother to the Dark Lord's heir. A hybrid of sorts, of the ultimate good and the ultimate evil. Only whereas Potter chose good, we'd make sure this one chose to follow our path."  
  
"How in god's name did you do that?" Ron asked doubtfully.  
  
Malfoy smiled. "It is impossible to say who is Oscar's true father; however, the answer closest to the truth would have to be – Tom Riddle."  
  
"Tom Riddle?" shreiked Hermione. "Are you insane?"  
  
"Perhaps slightly," said Draco, "Aren't we all? But that doesn't change the fact that it was, indeed, Tom Riddle who came to you that night. He had the greatest potential for evil out of every wizard that has ever lived, and we all saw how well he fufilled his destiny. What better father for Oscar?"  
  
"How is that possible?" Ron said. "Voldermort is Riddle. That diary Ginny found back in our second year was the only link memory-Riddle had to this world, and I know for a fact it's been destroyed since then."  
  
Draco smiled again. He hadn't had this much fun since witnessing the aftermath of the World Quidditch Cup back in the summer before his fourth year. "We were able to bring him back into this world," he answerd. "Very powerful dark magic, you understand. In order to do so, however, it required a – sacrifice – on the part of the Death Eaters. It was considered the initiation for the new recruits and a pledge of loyalty for the exisiting members. In order to bring back even a memory of Riddle, we each had to give up a portion of our own souls."  
  
"I didn't know you guys even had souls."  
  
"Funny, Weasley. The point is, by doing this not only were we able to conjure up Riddle, we simeltaneously transferred an incredible amount of Essence to him, which, in turn, was transferred to Oscar."  
  
"Essense?" asked Hermione, confused. "What do you mean, Essense?"  
  
"The essense of evil, for lack of a better word."  
  
"I refuse to believe this," Hermione said angrily. "This is nothing more than a pack of lies made up be a bored Death Eater who had decided to resume his old pastime of harassing Harry Potter's friends for means of amusement. You're not getting my son, Malfoy. Nothing you say will convince me that my sweet, adorable child is some messiah of evil."  
  
"Sure, he's sweet and adorable now," said Draco. "But wait until he turns six. After six years of existance, he will begin to change. The Essence he carries will begin to show. By the time he is eight, he will be the most powerful wizard in the world, and I guarentee you he will not be another of Dumbledore's crusaders. Give him to us now, and we will train him so he does not become uncontrollable. Refuse - " Draco shrugged. "even you will be powerless against him. He will kill you, your loved ones, and cause more destruction than you can imagine. He cannot help it," he added, seeing her look of dismay. "It is the way he was made. Don't fight it, Granger – he's not your little boy anymore. In fact, he never was."  
  
"My son is not some freak Slytherin science project!" Hermione screamed at him. "Get out of my flat! If you even come near me or my son again, I'll AK you and anyone else I have to, and the ministry'll call it justifiable homicide."  
  
"I've said what I came to say," Draco said, unmoved by her outburst. "I know what you're thinking. I won't try to discourage you. Go see Dumbledore. He'll just confirm the truth in what I'm telling you. I'll be back in a fortnight." With that, he disappeared.  
  
Hermione looked at Ron. It was hard to believe that just over an hour ago, everything had seemed so perfect. His skin was ghostly white, and she was sure she didn't look any different. "Go back to Harry and tell him what's going on," she said, "Then you two go to Dumbeldore's office in Hogwarts." She adjusted her clothes, which were still rumpled from her romp with Ron. "I'll meet you there." She grabbed her wand, a steely look of determination in her eyes. "I'm going to get my son."  
  
  
  
A/N: Before I get thousands of flames saying how stupid this is (and I agree, it is kinda dumb, but what's a girl who is not J. K. Rowling to do?), I just have to explain what was going on when I wrote this. I originally planned for Draco to be the father, because I like Draco. He's one of my favorite characters. (don't really like Hermione, but she's the only girl…) Around the third chapter, I changed my mind, because not only did you guys guess it like right after the first chapter (::applause::), but the whole thing was just a stock concept and I really wanted to do something different. So yes, this chapter is badly written, I had to invent a bunch of crap that doesn't even make sense in the wizarding world, much less the muggle one, and I've probably confused everyone out there beyond belief, but hey – at least the identity of the father's been revealed! I hope I surprised everyone if nothing else. I'm just trying really hard to come up with something orginal!!  
  
Also, I would just like to say that I hate the name oscar. Reminds me of that green puppet in a trash can. While I was writing the first chapter, I couldn't think of a name for the kid, so I tried Draco backwards, since he was going to be the father. I got "Ocard," which kinda sounded like Oscar, so I used it, intending to change it later. I did change it later, to "Tyr" (Norse god of thunder – very cool, or at least I think so), but my non- existant computer skills yet again failed me and somehow the Oscar version was uploaded. So yeah, that's just the little story behind the stupid name.  
  
Again, so sorry if I've made your brains hurt! I know mine is.  
  
**Sykik 


	6. Can You Change Destiny?

Chapter Five: Can You Change Destiny?  
  
Disclaimer: (I love writing disclaimers! They're the most fun of all!) All the characters you see here have been shamelessly stolen from J. K. Rowling– hence the term 'fan fiction.' If I were J. K. Rowling and all of this were mine, (1) this would be called a 'manuscript' and (2) why the hell would I post it here? Oh yeah, Hermione's secretary Jessica, annoying colleague Simon, and son Oscar are mine, but I don't really like them so I'm not claiming ownership.  
  
It was only a quiet sound, but it was enough to distract Harry from his work. He lifted his green eyes and saw that Ron had just apparated back into the office. His eyes flew to the clock. It hadn't even been two hours since he'd left. "You back so early? What happened? Did you two get into a fight again or somethin?" Harry asked, turning back to his pile of parchment. No answer from Ron. Harry raised his head and gave his friend his full attention. Only then did he notice how…different Ron looked. Pale, like a ghost, only not transparent. Breathing hard, and – was he actually trembling? "Ron, what happened?" Harry demanded, worried now.  
  
Ron blinked several times and took a deep breath. Her ran his hand through his hair, and his eyes rested on Harry. It took a moment for them to focus. "Oscar," he finally said. "He's in trouble. Screw the Finland mission! We have to go now!"  
  
"What?" said Harry. "Ron, what are you talking about? What happened to Oscar? Where do we have to go?"  
  
"Malfoy," Ron spat, and his anger seemed to snap him out of his shock. "Malfoy – came into Hermione's flat. I know who his father is, Harry."  
  
"Malfoy's the father? Holy god. What was Hermione thinking?"  
  
"No, no, it isn't Malfoy."  
  
"Who is it, then?!"  
  
"I can't answer that now. It's too complicated. All that matters right now is that fact that Malfoy and the other Death Eaters are trying to take him. They think he's destined to be the next Dark Lord." Ron stopped for a breath. His heart had been pounding non-stop ever since the name 'Tom Riddle' had escaped Malfoy's foul lips.  
  
"But - " Harry started to ask another question, but Ron interrupted.  
  
"Harry, you idiot! Are you going to stand there all day asking questions or are you going to come with me and do something about this? You'll hear everything when we explain this to Dumbledore." Ron ignored Harry's protests and dragged him towards the firplace.  
  
  
  
Hermione didn't bother to look for a space as her car barreled into the parking lot at Oscar's school. She was better at handling a broomstick than a car, which just went to show how poor her driving skills were. She had passed the test, however, and that was all that mattered. She left the car in the middle of the street, still running, and ran into the school.  
  
"Mummy!' cried Oscar as she entered the school's front office. He was sitting in a red plastic chair, waiting for her to pick him up as the school's receptionist had promised when she called.  
  
"Oh, sweetie," Hermione said in relief. The Death Eaters hadn't kidnapped him. She ran to him and gave him a hug. Confused, he hugged her back.  
  
"Mummy, why do I have to leave early?" he asked, pulling back from her. She let him go and stood up, turning to the desk to sign the green register book the receptionist held out to her.  
  
"Mummy forgot you had a very important appointment this afternoon, darling," she said as she signed her name carelessly with a flick of her pen. She closed the book and slid it back across the table without a word. "We have to leave now, or else we'll be late." She took Oscar's hand and practically dragged him outside to the car, which thankfully hadn't been stolen. Breaking every traffic law written since the invention of the automobile, she and Oscar reached her apartment building.  
  
"Just leave your backpack on the floor there, sweetheart," instructed Hermione as she opened the door to their flat with a wave of her wand, not even glancing down the halls first to see if there were any mugles watching. They walked inside the flat and, panting, Oscar did as he was told.  
  
"Can I have a drink of water, mummy?" Oscar asked as Hermione ran into the kitchen.  
  
"There's no time, darling," answered Hermione absentmindly as she yankened open drawer after drawer, trying to remember where exactly she had hidden that container of floo powder.  
  
"But I'm tired, mummy," Oscar persisted, "And it'll only take a second. Where are we even going?"  
  
There it was! Hermione thought triumphantly, grabbing the stone container from under a pile of paper clips, staples, and other junk. "We have to hurry," said Hermione, emerging from the kitchen and grabing Oscar's hand. "We're going to Hogwarts."  
  
Oscar's eyes lit up. He had heard countless stories about Hogwarts from Uncle Ron and Harry, and he couldn't wait until he was old enough to go there. "Am I going to school there?" he asked in excitement.  
  
"No. Well, not just yet. I have to talk to Professor Dumbeldore about some things, though, and while we talk maybe he will let one of the prefects take you on a tour of the school." With this hope of a first peek at Hogwarts, Oscar quieted down and as Hermione tossed the floo powder into the fireplace, stepped into the fireplace next to her.  
  
"To Professor Dumbeldore's office!"  
  
  
  
There was no sound in Dumbledore's office except for the rapid tapping of Ron's foot against the stone floor. Where was Hermione? Why hadn't he just sent and owl to Harry and gone with her to fetch Oscar? A million questions were running through his brain.  
  
"Stop that, Ron," Harry said sharply, breaking the silence. "Its getting annoying." Ron glared at him, but stopped tapping. A minute later, he started drumming his fingers against the wooden arm of his chair. Harry rolled his eyes, but said nothing.  
  
Several feet across from them, Dumbeldore sat behind his massive oak desk, not saying a word. Chin in hand, his blue eyes stared off into space, thinking quietly. He hadn't said much since Potter and Weasley tumbled out of his fireplace fifteen minutes ago with their news of Hermione's son. It had taken several minutes for Ron to explain everything to Harry, but the second Dumbeldore heard of Malfoy's visit, he instantaneously understood everything.  
  
Harry and Ron jumped as a loud bump came from the fireplace, signalling Hermione and Oscar's arrival. Hermione managed a small smile as she and a coughing Oscar emerged into the room. "Professor Dumbeldore," she said. "It's so nice to see you again."  
  
Dumbledore smiled and nodded. "Likewise, Miss Granger," he said. He turned his head slightly, watching as the brown-haired child gave a cry of delight and ran towads Harry and Ron. As Hermione was still five months pregnant when she left school, this was the first time he had ever seen Oscar Granger. He noted that the child had inherited his looks from his mother, which wasn't suprising since his father was only a little more than a ghost.  
  
"Oscar," Hermione admonished. "Where are your manners? Have you said hello to Professor Dumbledore?"  
  
Oscar slid off Harry's lap and turned to face Dumbeldore. "Hello, Professor," he said without a hint of shyness. He smiled widely, showing a missing tooth.  
  
"Hello, Oscar," Dumbledore replied. "Your mother tells me that you are anxious to start your schooling at Hogwarts."  
  
He nodded. "Uncle Ron and Harry have told me everything I need to know, Professor Dumbledore," he said. "Which picture the passage to the kitchens is behind, how to find the secret tunnel to Hogsmeade…they even promised to give me the Maurad -" he cut short as he noticed Ron and Harry discreetly waving their hands, trying to get his attention. "What's wrong with you guys?"  
  
"Never mind, never mind," said Dumbledore hastily, not missing the annoyed look Hermione was giving Harry and Ron. "I am sure you will prove yourself to be an invaluable asset to the school, just like your mother, Ron and Harry. I look forward to having you here. Meanwhile…" he said, looking towards the door of his office. Right on cue, the door opened and in stepped a tall boy with dark hair, wearing a bright prefect's badge pinned to his Hogwarts robes. "Ah, Jonathan. I'm sure Oscar would like a tour of Hogwarts. Would you, please?"  
  
"Come on, Oscar. What would you like to see first?" Oscar practically ran off to follow Jonathan, and as the door closed the could still hear him talking excitedly about the Quidditch fields, Hagrid's old hut, the Whomping Willow…  
  
Hermione felt her heart break as she watched her son walk out the door. Malfoy's words were still ringing in her ears… 'After six years of existance, he will begin to change. The Essence he carries will begin to show… even you will be powerless against him. He will kill you, your loved ones, and cause more destruction than you can imagine…' She shuddered. How could her child possibly grow up to be anything less than wonderful, not to mention the next Voldermort?  
  
"Professor Dumbledore, you have to help us." Hermione turned her attention back to what Ron was saying. "Malfoy said he would be back in a fortnight. That doesn't give us much time."  
  
"Is there even anything to be worried about, Professor?" Harry put in skeptically. "I mean, for all we know Malfory's just getting a kick out of messing with us."  
  
"I don't think he is," Hermione put in. "You weren't there when he came, Harry…the way he talked, it seemed like he was telling the truth."  
  
"He's a death eater, Hermione – we all know what accomplished liars they are."  
  
"No, I agree with Hermione," Ron said. "I saw the Dark Mark on his arm. He's a Death Eater, no doubt about it, and I don't think he'd jeporadize their security by coming to me and Hermione just to get a laugh. I say he's serious." The three turned to Dumbledore, awaiting his opinion.  
  
There was a long pause before he spoke. "The way you describe it," he finally said, "It seems to me that Mr. Malfoy is indeed telling the truth." Harry looked shocked, and Hermione covered her face with her hands.  
  
"Then what are we going to do?" Ron asked.  
  
Dumbledore gave a tiny smile. "You have not let me finish, Mr. Weasley. All hope is not lost." Hearing this, Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and looked up. "Oscar is, indeed, a type of hybrid between good and evil. In fact, he is very similar to Harry. Draco raised this very point himself, I believe. Both posess immense powers and, like Harry, Oscar will have to decide if he chooses to follow the dark arts. Draco conviently forgot to mention that the death eaters cannot take him against his will."  
  
"But I thought that Malfoy said that when Oscar turns six, his 'evil tendencies' or whatever will start to show and if he's not properly prepared to control his powers before that, he'll be out of control. If what you're saying is true, professor, he'll have to decide that before his sixth birthday," said Harry.  
  
"How old is Oscar?" Dumbledore asked Hermione.  
  
"He turned five at the beginning of October," she answered.  
  
"It's the end of February now," said Ron, thinking, "So that means he has roughly eight months to decide."  
  
Hermione relaxed slightly at hearing this. "Eight months? That's a long time."  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "If you think choosing good over evil is something you can teach him in the next eight months, Hermione, you're wrong. He has to decide for himself through his own experiences."  
  
"Through his own experiences?" Hermione repeated, confused. "How can he? He was barely three when Voldermort died. He doesn't remember what is was like. He hasn't experienced and 'evil', per say, in his entire life."  
  
"This is what you must do," Dumbledore said, leaning forward and a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. "The Death Eaters are just as aware of these facts as we are. When Draco returns, agree to let him take Oscar – but for four months only," he added quickly, seeing their mouths drop open in rage. "During those four months, they'll show him everything they know, trying to sway him to their side. When he returns to you, you can make small suggestions to him about the value of good over evil, but you musn't try and push him the way they will. He has been living in our world his entire life," he said. "He should have learnt everything he needs to know about good by now. Also, he must have ample time to consider everything which has been revealed to him and weigh them against each other."  
  
"How can he?" Hermione whispered, distressed. She hadn't moved an inch from her spot in front of the fireplace. "He's just a child."  
  
Dumbledore gave a wry smile. "Surely, Ms. Granger, you know by now that he is anything buy 'just a child.'"  
  
Ron lifted his head. While Dumbledore had been talking, he had been looking at the floor with his head in his hands. Staring off at something only he could see, he quietly remarked, "They'll show him all the power he has, and how he could use it to get whatever he wants. An adult couldn't turn down that offer, much less a child." No one had anything to say to that. They sat there, in silence, until the creaking of the door distracted them.  
  
"Mum!" came Oscar's scream. He and Jonathan has appeared at the doorway, back from their tour. Oscar ran to Hermione, his cheeks red from the cold. He started to talk excitedly. "Jonothan took me everywhere! I saw the dining hall, all the classrooms, and we went up this tower where we could see the forest, but Jonothan wouldn't let me go down there…" Hermione just stared at him, only half hearing what he was saying. She felt tears come to her eyes yet again, but she fought them back. How could she bear losing her son?  
  
"That's nice, sweetie," Hermione interrupted as soon as she was able to. "You can tell me all about it when we get home. Our meeting is finished already, and since we've taken up enough of Professor Dumbledore's time, we have to go now. What do you say?"  
  
"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore!" Oscar said, waving as he headed for the fireplace. "I had the best time! I can't wait until I'm old enough to go to school here!"  
  
"I look forward to seeing you here, Oscar," Dumbledore replied as Ron and Harry also got to their feet.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said. He merely nodded.  
  
"You will keep in touch with me, won't you?"  
  
"I'll send an owl every chance I get," Hermione promised. She turned to Ron and Harry. "Will you come back home with us?" They nodded, and in seconds they had all disappeared.  
  
Dumbledore sighed and removed his glasses from the tip of his nose. Secretly, he agreed with Ron. There was little they could do, except pray that Oscar made the right decision. However much faith he had in Hermione's son's integrity, there was no denying that Voldermort had set it all up extremely well. As much as it pained him to do so, he had to start making preperations to fight Oscar and the death eaters, for in any case there was no doubt another great war was not far off.  
  
He hoped Hermione was preparing herself. By this time next year, her son might be nothing but a memory to her.  
  
  
  
A/N – Arugh! This was a hard chapter to write!! Its hard to get into Dumbledore's mind, as we have seen he's always got something up his sleeve…  
  
It was also a real pain dreaming up a way for them to all get into Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts. I couldn't have them apparate, since we've been reminded a thousand times you can't apparate or disapparate on Hogwarts grounds (unless you can apparate there, but not apparate around the place once you get there? But then, how would you get out?), and even if they could there's still the matter of how to get Oscar there since he can't apparate. The only way in we really know about is through the Hogwarts Express or by flying car, both of which didn't fit with the "hurry- hurry" mood of Ron, Harry and Hermione. The only ways left were by portkey or floo powder. I honestly don't think you can get into Dumbledore's office by floo powder, but didn't the fourth book say that portkeys were only used for planned trips or something? At any rate, I didn't think they'd just leave a portkey to Dumbledore's office lying around somewhere 24/7, so I went with the most plausible. Flame if you must, but be aware that I know its inconsistant.  
  
**Sykik 


End file.
